The urban-rural divide in barbecue
Pendulum swings between ‘craft’ ’cue of big city, classic fare of small towns
The main street in Sabinal, a former cow town 60 miles west of San Antonio, looks a lot like other small towns I’ve driven through in search of the next great barbecue joint. It’s mostly deserted, with boarded-up storefronts and the usual collection of barebones services for remaining residents — post office, bank, convenience/liquor store, Family Dollar.
I notice that a few antiques stores have opened recently, perhaps signaling a reinvention as a weekend getaway for big-city professionals, and stop by “R” Bar-B-Que, Sabinal’s main barbecue joint. It’s a no-frills affair with decidedly average food at a reasonable price.
As I make my way back to San Antonio, I veer off onto County Road 301 and stop in front of a hardscrabble plot of land notable only for a barren slab of concrete among rock-hard dirt and bristly shrubs. This is what’s left of the “old home place” where my family lived and raised cattle starting in the early 1900s.
By the time I was born in the 1960s, my grandparents had migrated to a comfortable house in the Alamo Heights area of San Antonio. I only heard stories about the old home place — the winter ice storms that tested the mettle of even the toughest Texas cattle (and cattlemen) and summers spent cooling off in the shaded waters of a bend in the Sabinal River known as the “Ice Cream Hole.”
This migration from rural to urban areas is undoubtedly the defining demographic shift in the U.S. in the past 100 years. For every small town like Round Top that has reinvented itself as a destination for antiques stores, bed-andbreakfasts and throwback cafes, there are a dozen others that are clearly struggling to hold on to those residents — especially young people — that remain.
The shift from rural to urban culture weaves into Texas barbecue, too. In the past few decades, the nostalgic image of the roadside barbecue stand serving the farmers and ranchers of a rural community has slowly diminished. Taking its place: “craft” barbecue joints serving expensive, handcrafted smoked meats to hungry and affluent urban professionals.
In its 2017 list of the top 50 barbecue joints in the state, Texas Monthly magazine notes that 17 are in large urban areas, up from seven in its inaugural 1997 list. If you include the suburbs of large cities, I’d suggest more than half of them are in urban areas.
Recently, though, the pendulum is starting to swing back to rural environs. In 2015, Zimmerhanzel’s Bar-B-Que in Smithville, a classic roadhouse and favorite among barbecue day-trippers, closed suddenly. After a public outcry from locals, it reopened a year later.
In Wharton, beloved Hinze’s tragically burned down in 2014. This often is the death knell for a rural barbecue joint — but with encouragement from the community, the Hinze family reopened a short time later at a new location in Wharton proper.
Some small towns, especially in the Hill Country, are realizing that barbecue is now as much of a draw to tourists as antiques and bed-andbreakfasts. Hondo, which is just east of Sabinal, is slowly reinventing itself as a bedroom community of San Antonio while retaining its rural roots. McBee’s Barbecue was the go-to joint in this farming and ranching center before closing in 2008. In its place, Heavy’s Outdoor Bar-B-Que moved in, and pitmaster Darren “Heavy” Bernal makes some of the best barbecue west of San Antonio.
The prosperity that is slowly moving westward from San Antonio hasn’t quite reached Sabinal. The antiques stores that are now open are a good sign, though. I suspect a bed-and-breakfast (or two) may open soon. A top-notch barbecue joint may not be far behind.
“Old Home Place Barbecue” has a nice ring to it.